


tipsy

by yuminpa



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Now with alcohol, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, The conductor just isn't okay, This could be romantic discotrain or platonic, You can decide, i think, nihilism(?), things you should never ever say to suicidal people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuminpa/pseuds/yuminpa
Summary: Y'all are basically walking into necktie reprise, except cond doesn't do anything stupid. I mean, well, he does, but we'll get to thatAlso FYI this takes place like,, two months after necktie, when the threat of cond trying anything again had died down slightly.I'm so so not proud of this... but hopefully it's good for you?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	tipsy

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all are basically walking into necktie reprise, except cond doesn't do anything stupid. I mean, well, he does, but we'll get to that
> 
> Also FYI this takes place like,, two months after necktie, when the threat of cond trying anything again had died down slightly.
> 
> I'm so so not proud of this... but hopefully it's good for you?

In the storage room again. 

It had changed slightly from the last time we were here: it was now slightly cleaner, and overall a better place to work, or to be at all.  
The desk was more organised, less alcohol bottles left there, and brainstorms and draft scripts in their own little corner.  
The fallen metal beam and ragged remains of the purple tie lay untouched, though— for some reason, Conductor didn't have the heart to take it out.  
It would be helpful; every time he looked at it, what he called ‘sinister thoughts’ creeped back up. Slowly, but surely, everything started up again—

‘You're a horrible person.  
You do know the world will be so much better off if you weren't here?  
Imagine if Train Rush actually succeeded. No, that wouldn't of been likely.  
What about what happened two months ago?  
Nobody would care.

Nobody would pecking miss you. And that's your own fault.’

Two months back, shortly after what happened, DJ Grooves made Conductor promise that whenever those thoughts crept up on him again— and whenever he felt comfortable to— he would talk about it.  
No matter how many times he had told Grooves before, which was a lot now— it didn't matter.  
Whenever he wanted to, he could.  
And he did, for the most part. It was new to the both of them— Conductor had never been so open about what was going on, especially to his rival; and Grooves was the same. He wasn't expecting Conductor to be as open as he was. Wasn't expecting so much to pour out of someone so seemingly apathetic.  
But, it was worth it; they got so much more closer as time went on, and Conductor felt slightly better.

It only goes to show how much he needed someone to really talk to. 

But this specific week and the week before, Conductor really didn't want to say anything. Not even give any hints.  
He had said too much these past two months, and wanted to keep it bottled up, even if it hurt him.  
It felt...strange. For both of them.  
Conductor’s thoughts quickly got worse and worse throughout the weeks, and almost immediately— instead of slashing his arm open with one of the knives he constantly held— he picked up drinking again, to forget the sudden intrusive thoughts.  
I mean, it was always a problem— but it got progressively worse as did the sinister thoughts when he kept them bottled up. 

And what was he doing?  
Bottling. Them. Up.

It was a coping mechanism, albeit a bad one. But it worked. It took his mind off attempting another suicide, which felt like a break. It was nice.  
It also didn't aggravate Grooves or annoy him in any way, since he wasn't going to Grooves to talk about anything.  
A win win situation for both of them, right?

Grooves on the other hand— he had no idea. He didn't know Conductor was going through this silently again— he thought, with Conductor’s unexpected silence, he was getting better, and the silence — although ominous — made him rather happy.

If only he knew.

In fact, now he was going to find out. 

Conductor sat at his little desk in the corner of the storage room, as he typically did.  
Silence echoed around the room— and he was in a trance-like state.  
Four bottles of booze stood on the desk, but only two were open— most of the contents of the two gone.  
He looked over at the metal beam. It hadn't been moved in two months and neither had the cut remains of his old tie.  
Peck, even the chair that fell over wasn't moved. The scene was left the same way, for two months.  
He could start to physically feel what happened. The sudden pressure against his neck once he jumped off the chair—  
The physical and emotional pain once he and the metal bar fell—  
The lingering strangled feeling as he ended up falling asleep.  
The sudden realisation that everything had failed— and breaking down into tears in front of his lifetime enemy. 

Ugh. 

He shook his head at the thought, and looked away, resisting the urge to wrap his own hands around his neck.  
It was a habit that developed since then. 

But then the thoughts didn't stop— even drinking to forget didn't help the loud, booming thoughts in his head right now.  
'You're an awful person!’ His mind kept yelling. ‘You shouldn't exist. You shouldn't have survived any of those. You do know you could just stab yourself right now? There is a knife here. Why are you even still he—’

His thoughts were cut short by a knock on the door.  
“What?” He yelled, after sighing loudly.  
Whoever the visitor was silently opened the door, and then spoke.  
“I haven't seen you all day.” The visitor’s— Grooves’— voice sounded concerned, yet a kind element was in there somewhere.  
Conductor span around in his chair and took a look at him, and then scowled and looked away. “Get out.” His voice was slightly shaky, but he didn't want to cry and hadn't for a while.  
It concerned Grooves, but he laughed it off.  
“No can do, darling.”  
A scowl followed his throaty laugh.  
“How many drinks have you had?”  
“Two.” He spun slightly, but only halfway. He wasn't facing Grooves but he wasn't facing his desk either: he was halfway. “I'm only tipsy, but…” A smile— albeit forced— came to his face, and he looked at his rival. “I mean, if I was actually full on drunk, I'd actually be somewhat pecking happy, wouldn't I!?” 

His smile didn't falter— but Grooves’ smile did. He tilted his head slightly and got even closer. “Are…you okay? Is there something on your mind…?”  
“No! I'm…really, really not okay.” His smile disappeared and he swung back, his vision blurred from sudden tears that Grooves could thankfully never see. “And why else do you think I'm drinking. Use that lousy brain of yours.”  
The moon penguin took offence to what Conductor had said— and stood there stunned for a few moments— but remembered.  
Conductor was always typically rude.  
He sighed and silently walked over to the ‘scene’ as they both called it. 

The purple tie… the metal beam… the chair…

He shivered.

Speaking about the chair, he picked it up while being careful not to move anything there too much; and once it was upright, he dragged it over to next to the Conductor so they were both facing each other and just sat there silently.  
By now, the owl had his head in his hands. Grooves wasn't sure if what he could hear was muffled laughter or muffled weeping; but whatever it was, it concerned him.  
But then Conductor uncovered his face and sat up, and the bleak smile on his face gave away the fact he had actually been laughing, though nothing at all was funny.  
His smile quickly faltered, though.  
Silence took over the room, but it was broken quickly.  
“Do you…want to talk about it?” It was uncharacteristic of Grooves to be so quiet, so soft spoken; especially to the Conductor, but right now he barely had a choice.  
Speaking about the owl, he swung his chair back. Now it was facing towards the desk instead of his rival.  
He sighed and looked away, and then muttered, “The thoughts came back. I don't...know what to do other than this.” As he said that, he pointed at the two empty alcohol bottles in front of him.  
Grooves was stunned for a moment: silence.

Conductor had promised that whenever these thoughts came back he’d…talk about it...right?

But that wasn't important now. What was important was making sure he was okay.  
“When did they come back?”  
“A week ago—”  
“Darling, why didn't you tell me!? You should! You promised you would!”

Conductor’s heart felt ever so funny every single time Grooves said that to him— Darling. And this time was no different. 

But instead of commenting on that, he let his anger bubble up like usual and looked straight at the penguin again.  
“I couldn't!” His voice was still shaky. “I do it too much already! I can’t again, can I!?”  
“Yes, you can! You should!” Grooves was close to grabbing Conductor’s shoulders and shaking him every time he wanted to emphasise— similarly to what happened two months ago— but he refused to.  
He knew things were bad already, there was no need to make it all worse.  
“Not talking about it is only gonna make things worse! This—” He pointed to the alcohol bottles and picked one up. “Is not going to help!”  
He set it down, and sighed.  
He wasn't going to let himself be angry at someone who could barely help their actions.  
Conductor was silent. His eyes were filled with tears, but he wouldn't let them out. 

Crying was weak, right?

But soon, Grooves started speaking again after calming down. “Look. I want you to be okay and what you're doing isn't going to help your situation at all.”  
A scowl came on the owl’s face and he scoffed. “I don't care. Why do you!?”  
“Because I care about you, darling!” Grooves’ voice was close to a yell now. He didn't like yelling - none of them did - but it was inevitable. “I want you to be okay! I know I don't say it enough but peck I mean it every single time I do say it—”  
“No, you don't. You don't care about me in particular, because who would care about someone so pecking rude!?” Conductor started to yell, looking away from his rival.  
Grooves sat there in stunned silence, his eyes widened.  
The owl started to speak again through gritted teeth.  
“You don't care about me, Grooves. You just don't want me trying to do something again. You care about the fact that when I die— which will be pecking soon, believe you me— you or someone else will have to do something about it eventually. You know that. Cleaning it up, calling police, whatever. It's something. You only care about that.”  
The Conductor stopped, waiting for Grooves to speak up, but he simply couldn't. So, the owl continued.  
“It's like suicide watch. The watcher doesn't care about the person but they're stopping them from killing themselves for...whatever reason. You. Don't. Pecking. Care. Nobody does and nobody ever will.”

Silence continued for longer than the two would like to admit.  
Conductor still glared at his desk, and Grooves stared into thin air. 

What Conductor had just said wasn't true. 

It never was. It never will be.  
But he didn't know how to convince him.

“Didn't...you say you had grandchildren…? What about your family…? How would they react to you being...gone…” He went even quieter than he was before, which they both thought was impossible.  
This topic immediately broke the silence, and Conductor looked back at Grooves, a smile on his face. But this wasn't an ordinary smile: it was a twisted, scared one.  
“Ha! Like I even have a real family!” He started to laugh, like he had heard a joke, but nothing was funny.  
“The only ones that would care would… probably be my parents...and me daughter…maybe my ex but guess what!? All three of them are gone! They're pecking gone! Me wife doesn't talk to me and the rest!? They're all dead! The children are way too young to understand and nobody else in this dead family likes me, they're not going to pecking care! Nobody will!”

Now the two were keeping in their own tears. It was hard— for the both of them, but crying is weak, right…?

It was silent, once again. None of them knew what to say.  
Conductor could hear slight weeping coming from his rival; but he daren't do anything about it.  
He scowled, and uttered something quietly. “If yer not gonna say anything, yer honestly better off just leaving. I know you don't care. So why’re you wasting yer time?”  
The Conductor continued to look away, until he heard a sudden yell coming from Grooves, who was now standing up.  
“You are honestly SO pecking selfish! It makes me SICK!”  
“Heh. Tell me somethin’ I don't know.” A smirk was on Conductor’s face, but not even a hint of glee was on Grooves’.  
“You attempt suicide TWICE, the first time you could've killed so many innocent people! Those express owls! The little girl! They had all of their life to live and you RISKED THEM ALL because of some SILLY PECKING SUICIDE ATTEMPT.”  
“I-”  
“No! Shut up! And the second time? You do it RIGHT OVER THERE. Where somebody could've seen you. And I did! I saw you! I witnessed you try to pecking kill yourself! You fell asleep after it! And what if you died? Some poor owl, or penguin would have to clean up what you left behind. You'd really do THAT!? TO EVERYONE!? To those little babies who wouldn't understand a thing, and to whoever looks after them would have to bear with the fact that these kids probably don't have a grandfather anymore.”  
“They have a grandmother.”  
“Well— I— I can tell by experience, a family without one family member breaks! YOUR FAMILY WILL BREAK IF YOU LEAVE! Even I will break if you leave! I really shouldn't care if you live or die…but I do! Because I'm a pecking idiot! I genuinely care about you! I don't want you to leave us! Who else will conduct the Owl Express? What about these annual bird awards you try so hard to get—”  
“There are better conductors and directors.”  
“I—” 

Grooves couldn't say anything else. He stood there, beak awkwardly agape, trying to think of something to say; but nothing came out.  
The duo had tears streaming down their faces and they didn't notice how their voices got progressively more and more shaky as time went on.  
But the penguin had had it. He could barely deal with what the Conductor was doing right now.  
He felt the owl was being so… selfish, so self-centered, he was done.  
“When you tried to take your life those two times, I bet you didn't even think about anyone else but yourself.” Grooves’ voice was shaky, but Conductor didn't care.  
He didn't say anything in response. Only buried his head in his hands.  
“I take that as a ‘yes’. You only thought about yourself. You didn't think about what your actions would do to people who genuinely. Pecking. Care. You don't care about anyone else. And you never have. I've never met someone like you, and that's not a compliment.”  
The moon penguin was expecting a response; but he got none. So he continued on.  
“I really shouldn't care whether you live or die. And I don't know why I do. You're so insanely ignorant, it genuinely makes me so angry. I don't know why I even wa—”  
“GET THE PECK OUT OF HERE!” The owl suddenly boomed.  
Grooves stopped in surprise, and he looked at his rival, who was now crying with his head in his hands. He tried to say something else, but was interrupted.  
“GET OUT! Yer making this so much worse and I…can't…get out. Please.”  
Grooves nodded, though the Conductor obviously wouldn't be able to see; and he slowly but surely walked out.  
He muttered something the owl couldn't hear, and then slammed the door shut. 

The owl’s thoughts creeped up as he sat there, sobbing.

‘Surely Grooves didn't mean what he said.  
He's a calm, collected, nice man. He was just pushed to his limit and said something he didn't mean, right?  
He was going to apologise later, right…?

Or maybe you're the bad one here.  
You were the one who pushed him to that limit. You made him mad. And he's not an angry man, like you. People want him around, unlike you.  
This is all your fault. Mum and dad and your poor daughter aren't going to be proud of the man you've become.  
An apathetic, aggressive, defeatist, suicidal man, that nobody likes to be around. 

You are the pecking worst. And we all hope you know that.’

There has to be a knife somewhere...

Oh! There it is.


End file.
